The Garter
by Banna-nannas
Summary: "You have to live my life as well as your own. Go to France, see some sights. Make us some memories." Set during Mr. Bates' imprisonment. Anna goes to France and makes some memories. (S3 Banna)
1. Chapter 1

Her fingertips traced the edges of the lace band, committing it to memory. It wasn't often that she'd ever owned something as extravagant, but John told her to live her life for the both of them. So with the both of them in mind, she purchased the garter. It was frivolous, maybe even a bit silly, but she was determined that the day would come to pass where he too could run his own fingers over the delicate fabric. Not for the first time that day the mere thought elicited shivers through her.

That morning, having been dismissed by lady Mary, she set out to explore the city. Paris was unlike anything she'd ever seen before. The rattle of streetcars was familiar, as was the acrid breeze that swirled behind them. What was unfamiliar was the language around her. She knew little French; enough to communicate with shopkeepers and such, but not to converse freely. The likes of Lady Mary were raised by governesses and taught foreign tongues while practicing proper manners and deportment, but Anna was raised on Yorkshire farmland. Being in service from a young age didn't allow much time to cultivate those skills either. The smooth lilt of the conversations around her held her mesmerized as she walked along the Champs-Elysees. Though originally leaving the hotel without an agenda, when the Arc de Triomphe came into view, she was compelled to see it up close. Standing proudly in the distance, it's magnificence made itself known the closer she came.

John's voice rang in her head, " _You have to live my life as well as your own. Go to France, see some sights. Get us some memories."_ She closed her eyes, smiling, and saw her dear husband, before her. The image of him weeks before surrounded by the gray and dank walls of York Prison faded as she focused on his voice and the smile playing in his eyes.

The travel party would be leaving for the South of France the following day, as Paris was only meant to be a short pause to break up their journey. She only had a day to take in what she could. For John, she would do her best.

Reliefs were sculpted into the stone, marvelous in their grandeur. The Arch towered above her as she glanced up along its smooth surface. Figures depicting war, struggle and victory told a story that sat close to home for Anna. How many men had she known were lost in the Great War? Blessedly, there were many who returned, but none were truly undamaged. Not all scars are visible. Her own Mr. Bates carried the marks of a war gone by, and, in a way she was thankful for those marks because they led him to her. Their own personal war, however, was still being fought and their victory yet to be realized.

Catching sight of a postcard vendor on the sidewalk, she thumbed through the display before selecting a card depicting the Arc itself. She paid and thanked the man before setting off to find a place to rest for a moment. More than ever, she wished Mr. Bates was by her side. He wasn't one for talking with others; but for her, he always had the right words. If he were beside her, she would be bold enough to hold his hand in public. She would stroke his sleeve and push their physical limits in the open. There wouldn't be a moment with him she would take for granted. She vowed to share the experience with him however she could. The postcard was just the beginning. She wanted him to know he was all she wanted. A naughty voice inside called up some of the cards she saw a few moments before. Several scandalous prints were gathered near the bottom of the rack and she averted her eyes as quickly as possible. The impropriety of them flustered her and she had made her choice quickly.

" _There wouldn't be cards like that if they didn't interest men_ ," she thought to herself. " _What would he think of me looking like that?_ " The prospect excited her, but she laughed it off as a whim and began her trek back to the hotel. It would be time to dress for dinner soon anyway.

Something in a window display caught her eye, bringing her to a stop on the walkway. She didn't recall passing a lingerie shop earlier, but once she took notice, she couldn't quiet the voice that goaded her to explore. She looked to her left and right one last time before focusing on the sign, a cheeky smirk emerging beneath the brim of her hat.

* * *

"I think that just about does it Milady." Her hands still hovered beside the tiara as she met Lady Mary's eyes in the mirror. "I'm sure Mr. Matthew won't be able to keep his eyes off of you."

"Or his hands, I'm sure, judging by the past week." Her lips quirked in a tight smile.

"Milady!" Anna gasped.

"You can't pretend not to know what I mean."

"Well, it's not as if we had much time, but..." she trailed off, blushing furiously. Brief as their time together may have been, she still had the chance to become acquainted with the heat of intimacy. She looked away to busy herself before whispering, "I think I might know what you mean." Her eyes flicked back up to the mirror one last time for them to share a quick laugh.

"Truly, I am sorry about all that, though. It must be hard to be apart. I don't know if I would be able to manage."

Anna shook her head. "I can't thank you enough for what you did for us. We cherish those memories. It's not easy, but he's alive and that's a good thing." She paused to take a deep breath, "We'll get through it. I'm sure of it. Now, you don't want to keep _your_ husband waiting much longer do you?" She needed to steer the conversation quickly else she lose her composure in her employers presence.

"Yes, you're right. Thank you, Anna." Halfway to the door, Lady Mary turned. "Oh, Anna? I think I'll be alright for the night." She gestured vaguely. "With undressing, that is."

She nodded quickly, understanding immediately. She fought back a laugh, "Of course, Milady. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Anna. I'll see you in the morning."

* * *

The servant's lodging was spartan compared to the opulence of the Crawley's suite, but still quite comfortable. In her dressing gown and shift, Anna sat at the desk, having just filled the postcard for Mr. Bates to be posted in the morning. Whatever she couldn't fit on the card was poured onto the pages of her journal. There were too many things for her to trust herself to remember on her own.

A small paper parcel still sat on the end of the bed where she left it earlier in the afternoon. She felt brazen simply entering the shop itself, but when she saw the frilly garters modeled on the mannequins, a flash of sauciness took over. Transposing herself onto those postcards from the afternoon, she could see herself striking a provocative pose and sporting a garter like those to fuel her man's desire. For his eyes only, of course.

The paper was quickly cast aside to reacquaint herself with its contents. In their private moments together, John would whisper things in her ear he couldn't say in public, and he always made it clear how much he loved the blue of her eyes. So when she saw the blue satin laid out, her hand automatically reached for it, her decision made already. The fear of being caught out or judged for purchasing something risque settled over her, making her decision hastier than it would've been. But now, behind closed doors, she took in the finer details without the risk of onlookers. Ribbons twisted into the form of a flower centered with pearl beading and a row of white lace danced above the blue. It was beautiful. He would love it, she was sure of it. And what she wouldn't give to know right then and there. But she needed to see for herself first.

Tentatively, she looped it around her foot, pulling it into place on her thigh. A thrill traveled up her spine. What would he say? She knew better than that.

" _I would love you however, whatever, whenever,_ " he had said. As true as that may be, he was still a man of few words and his eyes spoke the volumes that his mouth didn't.

Approaching the standing mirror in the corner, she pulled back her gown, inching her shift upwards to expose the curve of her thigh. She sighed, closing her eyes. For a moment, she could almost feel his body pressed up behind her, his hand reaching around, pressing her belly to hold her secure. In her imagination, his growl of appreciation prickled at the skin of her neck while his other hand raked up her leg from where the garter sat. She felt the power she could wield over him like this, but at the same time, she could be rendered as helpless as though she were his prey. When she opened her eyes, a chill passed through her. The loss of his presence washed cold, seeing that he was never really there. And oh, how it hurt. She hugged her arms tight around herself, willing her lip not to wobble. Enough tears had been shed already.

It was hard for her not to be envious of Lady Mary. Her husband was with her. He was present and free. He was there to have and to hold, undressing her, holding her, loving her. Anna was fortunate to be traveling with them on their trip. She'd never have an opportunity like it any other way and she was thankful, but she practically bore witness to their " _getting used to one another."_ Every morning, she would see them together, sharing a bed as she came through to start the day. Though mortifying at first, it quickly tore at her heart, knowing that her own husband was locked away. Even when she was permitted to see him, she couldn't even touch his hand, let alone hold him. She missed him.

Needing to feel him again, she opened her traveling case to dig out a packet of letters. Every missive was precious to her, but some she revisited more than others. Many of them were simple detailings of the day and asking how she was faring, but others weren't just innocent correspondence. There were times when she was on his mind and he let her know it.

The first time she opened one of those letters at breakfast, her face turned an incriminating shade of crimson as she slammed it facedown on the table lest anyone read the lustful writing from over her shoulder. Playing it off with a fit of coughing, she was quickly and blessedly ignored, but she learned from that point on to wait until she was alone before she opened any letters from Mr. Bates.

In his more contemplative moods, he would tell her in explicit detail what he wanted to do to her, and with her. Opening one such letter, he extolled the virtues of her neck.

 _Your neck has always been of particular interest to me. For years, it was the most of you I ever though I'd be allowed to see, aside from a glimpse of your wrist or ankle. Oh, how I used to dream. At breakfast, I'd watch the workings of your throat. And I would imagine how you would taste. Eventually I would find out._ _In my mind, I would place my lips at the hollow there and nibble my way around behind your ear. Later, I would learn what that would do to you. It took everything in me not to press you against the crates in the courtyard and have my way with you when you'd grab onto my coat to pull me closer. I can still hear your sighs in my ear._

She remembered those times clearly. He wasn't the only one who held back. But when he nuzzled himself behind her ear, she'd quake straight through to her toes.

Curling up on the bed, she snaked her free hand up to the places he mentioned, trying to replicate the sensations. Conjuring up the heat of his mouth in her mind, she closed her eyes and let herself bask in the phantom touch. Craving more, she fumbled through the stack for her favorite letter.

 _Do you dream about our wedding night, my love?_

By God, she did. Frequently. The events of their wedding night were permanently seared into her memory. Shutting her eyes again, she was transported back to that night where the fire crackled invitingly in the hearth and the sumptuous bed was at her back, and John's weight at her chest. Her simple nightdress was the best she could muster for the occasion, but from the look in his eyes, it may as well have been the finest lingerie money could buy.

 _You were so bold, my naughty girl. I wanted to take my time, to love you slowly, but you had something different in mind._

Her hands ghosted over her neck, and grazed over her breasts, sending sparks to her core when she found her already-sensitive nipples. Teasing them gently, she remembered how he tried to reserve himself that night. She knew he was holding back, but she was tired of waiting. Enough patience had been spent between the two of them to last a lifetime.

 _You minx. You came to me and held my hands to your bosom. I knew it was only a matter of time before you had me under your spell. Clay in the potter's hands._

Waiting any longer was not an option. Taking hold of her hem, she bent her knees to allow her dress to pool at her hip. The garter was staring at her tantalizingly, daring her to continue.

 _You pounced on me and pushed me to the bed like a lioness, trapping me between your legs. I was at your mercy._

That night, his hands forged a path from the back of her calves, and worked their way under her shift. Her own hands followed the same path, tracing the skin of her thighs as he did when he lay beneath her, and her muscles tightened beneath.

 _I don't know what came over me, it was like something in me snapped._

Untamed was what she called him. He wound his long fingers through her hair, unbinding it to revel in its natural state. Grasping a handful, he tugged her gently before their lips crashed together. In the following moments, hands slipped between layers, buttons were undone in a rush and they were left nearly skin to skin.

Her breath came in pants, feeling it all over again as though he was there with her. The ache between her legs became too much to ignore. When she finally reached in, it was as though her hand became his hand when it first met the heat of her sex. She gasped at the contact and the telltale wetness she found there.

That night, he toyed with her. He knew she wanted him. All of him. Instead, he took a moment to bask in her presence. The rumbling growl from his lips ignited her every nerve. He nipped at her earlobe, working his fingers at her core all the while. Tension built within her as she became aware of his own arousal pressed against her with his large frame curled around her, grounding her. She loved the size of him, always so protective and comforting.

"Are you ready, my darling?" He rasped. He guided her chin so that her eyes met his. Clenching her lip between her teeth, she nodded.

 _I dreamt of that moment for us for so long, but my wildest imaginings were nothing compared to the real thing. What it does to me even here far away from you, I'm nearly undone. My darling, how I long to touch you now._

The moment they became one overwhelmed her. Thoughts swirled about her head, colliding with the new sensations. As she struggled for focus, she was overcome with the realization that she was, at that moment, who she was always meant to be. _His._ The coil of energy that he stoked within her with his fingers earlier intensified under the pressure of his hips as he ground into her.

She pressed her palm heavily against herself as her fingers pleaded with her body, working in furious circles, seeking release. Craning her head back into the pillow, irregular breaths escaped until her hips bucked of their own accord.

"Oh, John!" She gasped before coming back to awareness. Biting down on her lip, she stifled a cry. The letter lay on the bed next to her and she picked it up with a shaky hand.

" _I don't even know if you knew you did it, but you dug your nails into my back. For days afterward, I could rub my shoulder under my shirt and feel the impressions you left there._ _I lived for that."_

The final words must have still been wet when he folded the letter because the ink was smeared there, only to be left on the opposite side of the page in the form of a fingerprint. She caressed the mark and thought of the hands that made it. In the afterglow, they had laid together. Those same long, elegant fingers stroked the skin of her arms and back, memorizing her so delicately and reverently. She was a loved woman.

She returned the letters to their rightful order in the stack, bundling them together. Once she stored them safely in her belongings, she pulled up her dress once more to retrieve the garter from her leg. For the last time, she studied its details, folded it and placed it back in its paper. She sighed. Several moments passed while she simply stared at the small package, until a wicked smile erupted on her face. Snatching her sewing kit and shears, the paper was cast aside once more.

* * *

John tore into the envelope eagerly. He could always depend on receiving something from his wife during mail call. Just seeing her delicate cursive on the outside lifted his spirits, let alone the contents. This time, he could make out several items beneath the surface. After he finished admiring the bright postcard and short note she left for him, a thick letter remained. When he pulled it free, a small movement caught his attention and his eyes followed as a small piece of fabric fluttered down to the stone floor. He quickly bent to scoop it up, shielding it from any unwelcome glances.

With a furrowed brow, he examined the blue and white lacy square. Scouring the letter, he hoped he would find the answers to his question.

" _My Dearest Darling John,"_

How he loved that she addressed her letters to him that way, and how proud he was that they were finally allowed to speak to each other that way.

" _You may be curious about a certain little something I've slipped in to your mail this week. Let's just say I've already started to make us some memories here in France."_

 _He smiled broadly at her words. It was so cheeky of her to throw his own words back at him._

" _You should know that I miss you madly and think of you every moment. In fact, I made a little purchase here in Paris that made me think of you. You might be holding a piece of it right now. I wanted you to have a bit of it so that you could have something to remind you of me."_

"What in the world could this be?" He wondered silently, rubbing it gently between his fingers. The quality of it was very fine indeed. The satin and lace together in such a fashion reminded him of some intimate articles of women's clothing he'd seen in catalogues. "She wouldn't have done that...would she?"

" _I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I have as it seems to have brought me a good deal of pleasure when I put it on. Though I must admit I felt rather shameless carrying on as I did. I don't know what happened to me, I was overcome with desire for you. A woman possessed with want of her husband. I should be ashamed to admit that I imagined our wedding night as I gave in to it, but I'm not. I delighted in it as much as you did, as I have record of in your letters. I blush as I write this."_

In the course of her endearing rambling, a startling comprehension dawned on him. In that instant he knew exactly what he held in his hands, and exactly what she had done. A pink tinge spread across his cheeks as his grin deepened the lines of his face.

"My naughty girl," he chuckled.

* * *

 **A/N: This was my very first attempt at something M-rated. I feel a strange mix of bold and terrified, to be honest. I hope you enjoyed this and will beg for reviews as they are like oxygen for writers.**

 **A HUGE Thank you to Mr-and-mrs-bates for her eyes,** **collaboration and for being a sounding board for my anxieties :)**


	2. Chapter 2

It was still so new to them. Even though they'd been married for well over a year, it felt like it'd only been a week that they'd been together as a married couple, what with him being taken away from her only days after their wedding. But now that he was home and free, their life together could begin in earnest, especially since they had been handed the keys to their own cottage and a length of time to make it truly a home.

They linked hands nearly as soon as they left the Abbey. After being kept from touching each other for so long, even innocently, they were eager to take advantage of every opportunity. She looked up at him with a broad smile and ran her free hand against his arm, ultimately hugging him close. He rubbed her knuckles with his thumb, giving her an extra squeeze in response. It was easy to read the excitement on his face. During their last walk together, they teased each other and hazarded guesses as to which cottage they'd be moving to. It wouldn't be long now as the row of little cottages came into view. They were finally heading to place where they could be alone together. No more stealing away from a crowded and bustling servants hall to hide behind crate stacks and no more checking over their shoulders for anyone who might catch them huddled there. There was no need to sneak about the halls of the abbey like thieves as they searched for a secluded hideaway, courtesy of their employers or not. And aside from the gift of a guest room once more granted them by Lady Mary, they would no longer spend their nights lying awake in beds separated by a locked door and a long corridor. This would be their home. This would be their haven, the place they withdrew to at the end of a long day. A place to live their lives, to relax, have a cup of tea and simply be at peace. And that peace, so coveted, had very recently seemed a distant dream. Should they be blessed so, it would be the place their children would be conceived and the first home those children would ever know.

The key turned with a heavy click, and his eyes were bright as he looked to her before ushering her in ahead of him.

"I'm glad you didn't insist on carrying me over the threshold, I wasn't in the mood for a fight." Her final words faded out as she came around to face the sitting room, her expression sobering.

Unevenly, he walked in behind her, swinging his cane widely. "I've told you before, I can manage," he smirked at her back, before focusing his eyes on the room. A growling sigh escaped as he shuffled up to stand next to her as they both witheringly took in the room.

An aged settee was in front of them, draped with a thin blanket. A layer of dust could be made out all around. The table along the wall was covered over, with an empty basket sat on the top. Luckily, there were chairs on either side of it. They hadn't known what to expect when it came to furnishings, but they knew that they didn't have much between them. John had furniture from his mother's house, but that was in London; and as it was, they preferred to leave it largely intact so they could continue to rent it out. They would need to take inventory of what was left behind so they knew what they lacked, and what they had in front of them was looking like a good start. A rough and weathered start, but a start nonetheless. Altogether, with the chest of drawers she could see, and the cabinets dotting the walls, Anna could already see the potential. With a good cleaning, some painting and some love it would be right as rain. Worn curtains adorned the windows, but at least they'd afford them some privacy until she could exchange them for a set of her own.

John's voice broke the silence. "At least it doesn't smell damp," he offered.

"I think it's nice...or it will be after it's got a lick of paint."

"I can do that."

She fixed on him with a wry look.

"I can," he asserted.

Her lips fought a smile as she relented. "You won't be climbing any ladders...but yes, together I think we can make it really comfy." She investigated the room further, heading over to the nearest table.

"What do they call extreme optimism?" He teased.

"They call it making the best of things," she quipped as she grabbed the basket from the table, "and that is what we'll do."

His shoulders shook in silent laughter as he watched her move from place to place as a bird flits from branch to branch. He smirked at her, imagining the whirling thoughts in her head as she worked and deciding it had gone on long enough. He slinked towards her.

"You being in this room is enough to make it nice."

Unaware of his intent, she continued to sort a length of fabric, but he was upon her in an instant. It was flung sidelong from her hands, eliciting a surprised giggle.

"Come here."

The skin at the back of her neck tingled at his rough whisper, but it was his passionate kiss that nearly set her afire. Maybe it was the fervor of the moment making her feel as if she was falling or maybe they were actually falling...

Dust swirled around them as they came to a crash, thankful for the settee that was there to break their fall, regardless of the legs crumpled beneath his end of the seat.

To be able to watch her in such unbridled joy, was a wonder he'd never tire of. She was so beautiful when she laughed. His pride at being the one to see her at her most unguarded was unparalleled. It was to his shame, on the other hand, for robbing her of that light over the past months that brought him vowing to bring it back to her tenfold. His heart lightened seeing that the tears she now wiped from her eyes were born from glee, not the sorrow they'd been living in. She looked at him then, gleaming, and he could've sworn that very same heart skipped a beat.

His arm was still hooked around her shoulder from when they fell, lopsided as they were. She glanced at it mischievously and drew her lip between her teeth. Meeting his eyes with the same impishness, she wound her feet in-between his and walked her fingers to toy with the buttons of his waistcoat. One at a time, they came free. A slow smile quirked his mouth to one side when she gripped a handful of his jacket and gently tugged him closer.

She repeated his words from before, "Come here."

He was helpless to obey such a command. Following where she led, he shifted his weight above her as she leaned back against the cushioned arm. She coaxed him closer, bringing her hand behind his neck. He wet his lips in anticipation, closing the distance that final inch to meet hers when suddenly, a crack and a thump dropped them several inches. With the remaining legs of the settee giving way, they found themselves landed fully on floor.

He spoke between peals of their reignited laughter. "Well...now we're even."

"Oh, Mr. Bates, really," she sputtered, rolling her eyes. "This just won't do."

"Why not?"

"Because I fully intend to have my way with you." She stated the obvious as she looked around the room for inspiration. She hummed thoughtfully before abruptly popping up to give her idea a try, tossing her coat and hat in a flurry over the back of the settee in the process. Only stopping for a moment, her hands found their way to her hair, mindlessly tucking in stray pieces. He could only sit back and watch her resourcefulness at work, but it was only a matter of time before she would want him as her willing subject yet again, so he set himself to rights before she decided to hoist him up by the lapels herself.

The chair scraped against the floor as she dragged it from its hiding place along the wall.

"I do hope this is made of sturdier stuff than that settee, I'd hate to find ourselves in a heap." She rocked it to test the legs while brushing the dust from its frame.

"And what would we be doing to it that could possibly end with us in a heap?" He prompted her, knowing full well where her thoughts were headed.

"As I've said, Mister Bates, I intend to have my way with you," she murmured.

He watched her nod when she deemed the chair hardy enough for her purposes, but he intercepted her before she could finish. Placing his hands on her hips, he spun her, setting her down on the chair before him in one smooth motion. Her startled yelp quickly turned into a giggle as he took control, tracing her shape downward, he crouched in a way his knee wouldn't complain about later. Long fingers gently circled and lifted her ankle. Methodically, he set to unbuckling her shoes.

His voice was husky as he teased her, "Are you sure you wouldn't rather find the bedroom, Mrs. Bates?"

She shook her head, grinning playfully at him. "It's too far and we don't know what shape it's in anyway. There's always later. We have all the time in the world now."

The look he returned was sinful. He held her eyes as his hands worked beneath her skirt, scrunching it up as they snaked upward to roll down her stockings. His movements were purposeful and driven until his fingers suddenly paused, meeting a texture they were unfamiliar with. She smirked and stifled a laugh when she watched his features creep from confusion to realization.

"The little minx, this was her plan all along," he thought. Earlier, she tried to lead him into thinking they'd simply be cleaning. " _Mr. Bates_ ," she had said, " _heaven knows what state we're going to find our cottage in. I don't know what you have in mind, but I'm counting on giving it a once over with a broom at the very least."_ He'd always teased her, calling her his naughty girl, but the truth of that label was becoming more apparent. Overcome with anticipation, he simply had to see the garter in person. Despite knowing of its existence and being gifted a sneak peek, when he drew her skirt up to her hip, his breath stuttered. His imaginings could never have done it justice.

"Do you like it?" She sounded nervous.

"My darling, it's marvelous." He wondered why would she ever be nervous about such a thing _._

He drew her face her down to his, pouring into his kiss all that he could to convey the depth of his feelings for her—as if it could ever be thanks enough for all that she'd done for him. His savior.

Her eyes were still closed when he pulled away, and he set back to work. Silky stockings rolled down her legs smoothly. The garter, however, remained. He would tell her later how he used to dream at night of seeing her wearing it, and only it. He rumbled as he ran his fingers along its frills,

"My, my, Mrs. Bates, whatever would the neighbors think if they knew you were parading around wearing such things? How racy of you."

That brought her back to attention. As delicious as it was to be at his mercy, she was still dissatisfied with the way he thwarted her.

"I don't give a whit about what anyone thinks. We've waited long enough to do as we please, don't you think?"

She wanted her way and was determined to get it. Her gaze swept hungrily over him. His waistcoat was already open, exposing his shirt underneath, but his jacket was still an obstacle over it all. Leaning forward and sliding her hands between the layers, she peeled it off with the waistcoat in one swift push. Her dress was still bunched at her hips when she slid to the edge of the chair, allowing her thighs to surround him on either side. He whimpered when his hand came up to caress the frills of the garter. And then it was as if a dam broke loose. Their fingers scrabbled and fought to free each other of the layers left separating them, the spoils landing in a tangled heap. When his chest was finally bared to her, she raked her fingers across him. She always admired the breadth of him, the quiet strength. Being his wife, only she was allowed to see all that he kept hidden underneath the polished exterior of the valet. After being kept from her for so long, she would finally be permitted to get her fill of him, though she doubted she could ever get enough. It thrilled her to see him so raw and untamed. The masculine wildness of the hair scattered liberally across his chest excited and enthralled her.

With the top of her dress loosened and draping to her waist, the exposed skin of her collarbone peeked out above the fabric of her chemise and was his for the taking. Locking his lips there, he trailed his way up her neck, pulling himself up from the floor. She whined softly, realizing that by giving herself up to his ministrations, she was in great danger of losing control of her master plan. And that would not do. So she pushed him away gently, leaving a dazed husband standing above her.

Seductive and teasing, she slouched low in the chair, spreading her legs a little further as she made her demands: Shoes, trousers and drawers. Her own boldness was nearly shocking her, asking him to put on a show for her like that. She shivered with the brazenness of it all. Could it be considered a weakness if he saw how his actions were affecting her? It was no secret, after all, that he was always her greatest desire.

Finally, he stood before her, requests complete. Her husband was completely exposed, on display and vulnerable; the fire in his eyes was unmistakable. She eyed him, observing his chest rising and falling at a quickened pace, nearly matching her own. It soothed her to see he was as affected as she was. From his face down to other, more prominent parts begging for attention, she allowed her gaze to wander. Anna flicked her tongue out to wet her lips as she stood, chair scraping against the floor. She nodded towards the seat.

"Sit, Mr. Bates," she commanded.

He did as he was told, his eyes widening as he watched her push her dress the rest of the way off her hips, drinking in every detail. It came to a soft landing at her feet.

The fact that his wife stood before him in just her underthings had him just holding back a moan. He'd only twice before been given the opportunity to be with her like this. He tried not to brood on the unfairness of it all. They'd been married for quite some time in actuality; long enough that in the right circumstances, they could have had two children here with them, or at least one and another soon to be joining them, but that was an alternate reality. If she were to hear his thoughts, she'd tell him to live in the moment with her, to make the most of the time they had now. That is, if she were inclined to speak at all. Instead, she took action. Anna held his attention; her chemise and knickers quickly joined her dress, leaving her as exposed as he. She came up close, placing her hands on either side of his neck for balance as she lifted herself to straddle his lap, leaving them unjoined. His throat bobbed as she teased him with a roll of her hips. Her right hand combed the hair at the nape of his neck while the left braced itself against his chest. Slowly, she rose on her toes only to sink back down on him. Their collective gasps rang out as they joined, as close as two could possibly be. As one, as they were always meant to be.

Slowly, achingly, she moved above him. The chair creaked with their movements. Bare feet arched and stretched for purchase on the floor beneath. Their eyes searched intently into the other's, seeking reassurance.

His groan was barely heard over the sound of her own when she rolled her head back, exposing her neck to him and opening herself to his explorations.

Even though she swore she was using him, he had no problem with it. In fact, he enjoyed her seizing her chance to be in control, to take her pleasure how she wanted it, on her terms. Whatever it took for her to feel comfortable in her discovery, he would allow. Countless times over the course of their marriage, he would tell her how he loved to see her so empowered, the things it did to him. It was as if he didn't merely have a wife, he had a goddess.

He pressed hot kisses to her throat and when he snuck a taste of her there, she let out a sigh. Sounds like that were what he replayed over and over in his mind while he was away. The sweet sounds of their intimacy, her moans and gasps, sustained him in those long months. Those were what he thought back on to drown out the sounds of the other unfortunates behind bars. Of course, other memories of their singular night together were replayed endlessly as well, much to his own torment. When he tried to tell her as much, she shushed him, telling him how it was time to make new memories, good ones.

"Oh God," she whispered and moved quicker.

"My darling, I can't…"

She knew and she didn't care. In their handful of times together he'd always been considerate and generous, but she wanted to be the reason he lost control. And he did.

"I'm sorry," he panted. "I couldn't...you were just so…"

"I know, it's alright." She hushed him and guided his hand where she needed his attention the most.

A quiet settled over them shortly after. Not wanting to disturb the sanctity of the moment, neither spoke. Their chests came to a slow rise and fall, and she breathed him in, holding him close. She couldn't get enough of him, and knew she never would. His voice, the taste of him; the feeling of him around her, above, under or especially inside of her. She had almost been sentenced to a life without him, the thought of which made her grip him even closer.

His hand once again crept up to toy with the edges of the garter. "I was expecting to see this the other night…" At her raised eyebrow, he hurried to clarify. "Not that it was disappointing by any means, I mean, I didn't expect the chance to be together like that at all… I mean, it's just been part of so many of my imaginings that I just thought, maybe…"

She grinned at him, blushing slightly. "I wanted to save it until we were in our own home."

He smiled back.

"I know that might sound silly, but I wanted it to save it for that," she spoke lowly.

His smile deepened. "Well, here we are."

"Yes, here we are."

He chuckled.

"Why are you laughing?"

He blushed before he answered. "Here we are…and you've had your way with me."

"Oh, for goodness sake." She slapped his shoulder lightly and he helped her to step back away from him.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't resist." The crinkles at his eyes deepened when he smiled his apology.

In an attempt to distract himself from staring at her while she redressed, he set about finding his own clothing and changed the subject. "I wonder how the village cricket team is coming along. I know the house team is really looking up this year, what with the addition of Mr. Molesley and all, I'm sure we'll be unstoppable…" he let his voice trail off, knowing how she felt about being teased about the butler cum valet. "I can only hope his prowess doesn't sweep you off your feet."

"Maybe I will admire him from a distance, but only because that's where I'd like him to stay. I intend to spend my time around the scorekeepers box. I heard there'll be a handsome devil taking up residence there," she smirked. "Now, Mr. Bates, stop distracting me. If we intend to sleep here tonight, I suggest you let me tend to the bedroom before it's too late."

"Who said anything about sleeping?" He followed her to the stairs. "I'll help you."

"Cheeky beggar." She stopped him with a hand to the chest and a swift peck on the lips. "No you won't, we'll never get anything done if you come with me."

"We'll get at least one thing done," he murmured.

"That's enough of that, Mr. Bates. Why don't you go make us some tea...or find us a tea kettle...or make us a fire?" She rambled before letting out a breath in a puff. "Thank goodness we have some time to ourselves, we have so much to do. Do we even have something to drink tea out of?"

"I wouldn't worry about it too much yet, we've been gifted some things, though we don't know what they are yet. All I know is I have everything I need right here."

"Dusty rags and a broken settee?"

"You." He leaned in for a kiss, and turned her towards the stairs again with a pat to the bottom. "I expect that bedroom to be in working order soon, Mrs. Bates," he called over his shoulder as he disappeared into the kitchen. "Your husband needs some more time to admire that garter."

 **A/N: I feel so exposed putting something naughty out there. I'm all about constructive criticism, but I love praise more. ;) Let me know what you think. Thank you for reading!**


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